The Yuchae Blossom Page 7

  What is this all about? And how does he know all of this? “I apologize for my abrupt departure, but, with respect, General Manager, I don’t answer to you. I just want to be… clear.”

  “No, you do not. This is true. But you don’t have a license to drive, Division Manager, and if there had been a problem, an accident let’s say, you would have put the company in a difficult position. Do you see?”

  Jack set his coffee cup down. “I do. It won’t happen again,” he said, standing. “Thank you for the breakfast, Lee Yong-geun.” He purposefully omitted his title. Nodding, he left him sitting there with an uneaten breakfast and what Jack was sure were several unanswered questions.

  WHEN HE got home from work that afternoon, he checked the garage. Both new bikes stood in the same place he’d left them the day before, and Choon-hee’s bike was gone. Feeling a bit crestfallen, he went in to change his clothes. A few hours later as he sat at the kitchen table with a glass of soju, he heard the door.

  “Woo-bin?”

  The young man came into the kitchen.

  Jack nodded at the seat opposite, and Woo-bin sat. He poured soju into an empty glass and handed it to him. Woo-bin accepted it with both hands and nodded, turning his head as he drank. He took the bottle and refilled Jack’s glass for him. Drinking together was a deeply engrained Korean tradition. Turning as you drank was out of respect for an elder, and you never poured your own drink unless you were younger or a subordinate, and then you poured for the elder or senior first, and then for yourself. “What can I do to get you to accept the bike?”

  “Jack. I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  Woo-bin regarded him and then took another drink, draining his glass. Jack refilled it. “Because I have nothing to give you in return.”

  “I know it’s tradition to give a gift when receiving one, but I am senior to you, and I am saying it’s okay not to.” Jack offered him a warm smile.

  “But….”

  “How about this. You’re a manager now, and you should have a company car, but instead I’m giving you a company… bike.”

  Woo-bin laughed softly. “A company bike?”

  “Yes.”

  Then he looked at Jack, his eyes bright. “I’ll cook for you. I can make dinner for the four of us.”

  “That’s a fantastic idea.”

  Woo-bin flashed him that lopsided smile.

  Oh when he smiles. He wanted to grab him and pull him into his arms. Instead he drained his glass, and Woo-bin refilled it. They sat like that, talking about the bikes—rides on weekends—and what Woo-bin was thinking of making for dinner. Jack wanted to sit like this, not wanting it to end. Just he and Woo-bin. Talking. But soon Choon-hee came in to prepare the night’s supper, and Woo-bin went off to clean up. He placed the glasses in the sink and returned the half-full bottle of soju to the fridge. As he was about to leave the kitchen, Choon-hee spoke.

  “You have good heart too, Mr. Jack Calloway.”

  He looked at her. She had her back to him as she cleaned vegetables at the sink.

  “You think so, Choon-hee?”

  She nodded. “Go wash. Dinner soon.”

  Jack went back to his room. Stopping at his door, he looked down the hall toward Woo-bin’s room and wondered if there would come a time when Woo-bin would think that too.

  Twelve

  HE RECEIVED a frantic phone call from Missy at 10:00 a.m. on Monday morning.

  It had been two weeks since he’d bought the bikes, and he and Woo-bin had spent both Saturdays riding. Woo-bin had taken him to two of his favorite spots. One, a secluded beach with palms, sand, and quiet. The other, a spot on Mount Hallasan where there was a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of all of Jeju Island. It was magnificent.

  Jack grabbed his coat and cell and headed out of his office on the run, tagging Byung-soo on the way.

  “Where to, Seonsaengnim?”

  “The retreat site.” Byung-soo was taking an English course. Thank God.

  Five minutes and they were underway. Apparently there were protesters at the site, blocking the ongoing excavation. The project foreman had called the local police, who were refusing to move the protesters because they, too, believed that the protesters had a point. Jack thought about the day he stole the pickup, the day they had found Woo-bin, and how he had felt as the backhoe cut into the side of the mountain. How it had affected him. Like someone was butchering an animal. Butchering the culture. Woo-bin’s culture. He took out his cell and thumbed through his contacts. Finding what he was looking for, he tapped the Connect icon. After about ten seconds, it started ringing.

  “Jack?”

  “Leila. How are you?”

  “Well, seeing as how I haven’t heard from you outside of emails since you left… concerned.”

  “You’ve forgotten how to use a phone?”

  Soft laughter. “Oh, Jacky. Really, how are you?”

  “I’m well. Lots to tell, but right now I need your help with something.”

  “Personal? Business?”

  “Sort of both.”

  “Let’s have it.”

  He took a deep breath. “The annex property at Hallasan?”

  “The annex property….”

  “The wellness spa….”

  “Oh, The Lotus. Right. That was ED Lee Nam-geun’s baby.”

  “I think we should shut it down.”

  There was a pause.

  “Leila?”

  “Why?”

  “Cultural issue. Bad press. There are protesters at the site right now along with the police.”

  “Ah. Not good. And?”

  “Beauty.”

  “…beauty.”

  “Leila, this place, the people, the culture, the land. It’s all so incredibly beautiful.”

  “Jack, you’ve been to beautiful places all over Central and South America. What’s so different about Jeju Island?”

  “It’s had a profound effect on me.”

  “Wait. Are you in love?”

  “What? Well… I guess, yes. With Jeju Island.”

  “That’s not what I meant, exactly.”

  “It’s what I meant. If you could see this place, see Mount Hallasan. You’d know what I’m talking about.”

  There was a long pause and noise. He knew exactly what she was doing. Getting her glasses and her tablet. He laughed to himself as he heard the chain that her glasses usually hung from around her neck jangling.

  “You know I trust you, Jack. Let me see what I can do. Possibly relocate somewhere else on the island closer to the property maybe. I’ll talk to Legal about the site and the residents. Maybe they can run with the cultural aspect, and I’ll put a call in to Seoul to hold off on any further movement until Legal has had a chance to review everything. I can’t promise anything, but we’ll see.”

  “Thanks, Leila. I owe you another one.”

  “If I kept count, you’d be working for me until they bury you.”

  He laughed out loud. “Uh-huh. That was my plan anyway.”

  “Going to hold you to that. Love to Luke when you talk to him. Still planning on being home for the holidays?”

  “Yes. Bristol. Come back east. We’ll have lunch, and you’re invited to Thanksgiving dinner as usual. Bring Hank.”

  “Oh, Hank will be in Hawaii for Thanksgiving this year. Surfing and visiting Michael.”

  Michael was her ex-husband, and Hank was her only son. “Okay, come anyway.”

  “I will. Hank has a new girlfriend. Sabrina. I don’t like her. I think she’s an idiot, but what do I know about contemporary romance.”

  “About as much as I know about love, period, I guess.”

  “Oooo. Cryptic. I’ll ask again. Are you in love, Jacky?”

  “We’ll talk when I see you.”

  Soft laughter. “That’s a yes. I may not know much about love in the new millennium, but I know you. Bring her home for the holidays. Can’t wait to meet the lucky girl.”

  “Bye, Leila.”r />
  “Bye, Jacky.” She hung up.

  In another twenty minutes they were pulling up to the construction office trailer. As he got out, Missy was already halfway to the car.

  “Hey. I don’t know what happened, but the Seoul office just called and shut it down.”

  Damn, he thought, that’s why she’s the EVP. “Well, on the way over I was thinking that the destruction of land that’s part of what is a national park is not such a good idea for the company image. So, I called the home office.”

  Missy raised her eyebrows. Woo-bin was behind her now. He nodded.

  “Woo-bin.”

  “Seonsaengnim.”

  “ED Lee Nam-geun isn’t gonna be too happy with me, I fear.” As he spoke, his cell buzzed. “Ah. Speak of the devil.”

  Woo-bin laughed, then put his hand over his mouth. Missy looked at him.

  “Devil. He kind of looks like one, no?”

  Missy was laughing now and nodding, and Jack looked at both of them, exasperated. Then waving them away as he answered. “Executive Director Lee Nam-geun. How are you? Ah. Not good? How so? Yes, I’m at the site now. The equipment has stopped rolling, and the workers have been sent home. Well, I was worried about the press and company image. Both news stations out of Seoul are here. I’m not sure, but some of the employees may have spoken to them. The protesters just showed up at 10:00 a.m. No, no warning, and the press were right on their heels.” Not knowing all the facts, he lied, a bit. The news stations were, in fact, there. “I see. Uh-huh. She is the EVP. Yes, and she is my boss. My apologies, Executive Director, but I was just thinking of how Chapel was going to look in the media. You’re right. I should have called you first, but there really wasn’t any time. Yes. Next time I will be sure to notify you first before I call the home office. Yes, Executive Director.” And then he was gone. “Executive Director?” Jack looked at the phone to see if the call was still connected. It wasn’t. ED Lee Nam-geun had hung up on him. His phone began buzzing on the heels of his last call. It was Lee Yong-geun. He let it go to voicemail.

  Missy had wandered back with Woo-bin in tow. “So. How’d that all go?” She was pointing at his cell as he pocketed it.

  “Not well. I got my ass chewed.”

  Woo-bin blushed. Jack noticed.

  “You expected a promotion?” she asked, arms folded.

  “No. I expected exactly what I got, just not so soon.”

  “Jack, this is—”

  “Not Marin County, I know. Let’s get lunch. Missy, Woo-bin? Hungry?”

  And they all piled into the car and had Woo-bin give Byung-soo directions, because classes or not, his English wasn’t quite that good yet.

  THAT NIGHT, Jack was sitting in the garden off his bedroom. Late spring had blanketed Jeju in warmth, and the night sounds seemed to be orchestrated in rhythm to the waves that rode ashore, a heady breeze rising on the salty mist and enveloping him. Marin County. He had skyped with Luke earlier and was feeling especially homesick. He missed San Francisco, his family, his friends. You’d think I’d be used to this by now with all the time I’ve spent away in Sao Paulo. Although he had made equally good friends here in what was becoming his second home, still. He was about to down another glass of soju when he heard…. Was that a guitar? The sound was intermittent. Audible with the recession of each wave. He finished what remained of the soju in his glass and stood, bottle and glass in hand, and walked to the edge of the granite patio. Leaning forward, he strained to listen. Nothing. He waited, and sure enough there it was again, and someone was singing softly. Both music and voice were quite good, he thought. Making his way through the hedge that bordered the garden, he followed the lilting melody until he rounded the corner of the house, and there sat Woo-bin. A small fire burned in an open pit built into the patio floor, stoked to life by wood and charcoal. Woo-bin looked up and stood. He didn’t bow but nodded slightly and smiled. “Jack.”

  “Mind if I sit?”

  “No, please.” Woo-bin gestured toward a seat close to the fire.

  Jack sat, placing his bottle of soju next to another on the small table between them. He noticed a third empty glass. He looked at it questioningly.

  “Choon-hee. She sits with me sometimes. I play new things that I write for her, and sometimes she will request old Korean ballads, and we drink and talk.”

  Jack smiled. “Play something for me?”

  Woo-bin blushed. “I am not sure my ability is up to the standards that Seonsaengnim is accustomed to.”

  Jack laughed softly. Woo-bin’s blush deepened, and smiling, he dipped his head. God. Jack’s pulse increased, and his heart wanted to… he wanted to…. He poured himself a glass and offered some to Woo-bin, who nodded in assent. “Please, play.” Jack spoke softly and looked at Woo-bin with deep sincerity.

  Woo-bin took a long draft of his drink, settled himself, and then began with three repetitive chords from major to minor and back. He sang softly in a voice that was clear and pitch-perfect. It was in Korean, but it didn’t matter to Jack, because Woo-bin was singing for him, and as the words and the music wrapped themselves around him, he couldn’t stop the rising tide of emotions. As he stood and turned toward the beach, which was in view, Woo-bin stopped.

  “Jack… I… it was not good. I could play another if….”

  “No. It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s a song my mother taught me when I was very little. I sing it for her. And for Choon-hee, and now, for you.”

  Jack composed himself and slowly turned, and, crouching before the fire, sat crossed-legged opposite Woo-bin. “Tell me about your mom.”

  He began strumming random chords, and he didn’t speak for a bit. Then, “She was beautiful and kind. Her smile was my heart. I love her very much, Jack.” He stopped playing and leaned the guitar against the side of his chair and was quiet again.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but I’ll listen if you do.”

  He poured Jack a glass of soju, then one for himself. Jack drank. Woo-bin just held his in both hands, looking at it.

  The night sounds seemed to deepen—the soft crackling of the fire, the breeze, and the ocean.

  “It was my father. I was twelve. He came home drunk, and he was beating my brother.” Woo-bin’s voice caught.

  Jack yearned to take Woo-bin’s hand and hold it as he told him something he was sure was painful.

  “I tried to stop him, and he threw me against a wall and broke my arm. That’s when my mother came at him with only her fists as she tried to stop him. Like so many times before.” Woo-bin looked at Jack now, his eyes brimming with tears. “He fought with her and threw her down the stairs.” He stopped, head bowed. “I’m sorry. This is an awful thing to tell you. I shouldn’t have.”

  Jack stood, moved around the fire pit, and sat next to Woo-bin. He tentatively placed his hand on Woo-bin’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. Woo-bin didn’t move away, and they stayed like that for a time until he had composed himself. He turned slightly toward Jack, eyes downcast.

  “Thank you, Jack. For letting me tell you something that is hard to talk about. And you were patient and tolerant of the outburst of the little boy that still lives in here and wishes so much to see his omma (mother) again.” Woo-bin placed a fist over his heart.

  Jack grabbed his other shoulder and turned Woo-bin to face him. “You can tell me anything you want or need to, anytime.” He looked into Woo-bin’s eyes with sincerity and nodded. “You can. Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand, Seonsaengnim, Jack.”

  At that, he smiled. All he wanted to do was take Woo-bin in his arms and make him feel safe. Instead he dropped his hands and shoved them in his pockets.

  “Wait here. I’ll be back in minute.” With that, Jack jogged off to his room to retrieve something. He rummaged through one of his half-unpacked bags until he found what he was looking for, then headed back to Woo-bin’s patio.

  Woo-bin was strumming random chords on his guitar.

 
“Here.” Jack handed him the miniature figurine of a wolf. “It’s called a fetish. It was carved by a member of a Native American tribe called the Zuni. It’s made of white marble, and it stands for loyalty and family. It was given to me by an old colleague when I was promoted a few years back.”

  “I can’t accept this, Jack. This must be something very personal and dear to you.”

  “It is, and I want you to have it.”

  Woo-bin turned it over and over in his hands. Then he looked at Jack. “It’s very beautiful, but I can’t take this from you.”

  “Really, Woo-bin. Please.”

  He looked at it once more, acquiescing. “Thank you, Jack. I really don’t know what to say.”

  “You’ve already said it by accepting it.” Jack smiled.

  “I will go in now.” He nodded, smiling shyly. “Sleep well.”

  “You too.” Jack watched him go until he was inside. He wished he had followed him, laid him on the bed, and wrapped his arms around him and held him until the easy and slow breathing of restful sleep came to him. His feelings for Woo-bin were changing, growing with every word, every look, every moment he was in his presence. He picked up his half-empty bottle of soju and headed to the beach. Sitting there, he dug his feet into the sand and listened to the waves. He found, as he thought about the beauty in Woo-bin’s features—his hair, the way the sound of his voice affected him so, the way his eyes searched his own for something, understanding, need. Love?—that he couldn’t be without him. But yet… he was. He didn’t know what Woo-bin felt for him or if he even felt anything other than respect. True, at first he was terribly uncomfortable with Woo-bin’s attentiveness, but that was in a moment of narcissism before he had actually woken up and taken a good look around—at Jeju, at Woo-bin. Jack drained the bottle and stuck it in the sand beside him. Had it been like this with Nannie? He didn’t think so, recalling how they had met. No, it hadn’t been like this at all. So, was this really, truly, that one love? His head had begun to hurt, but he didn’t want to go in yet to his empty bed, a place without Woo-bin beside him, so he lay back in the sand and looked at the night sky. There was a full moon, and it blanketed him in the ethereal light of earth’s slumber. And soon he slept himself.